“It was just an idea.”

“And we’ve ixnayed it,” Veronica matter-of-factly said. “Next?”

Creed raised a hand.

Veronica gave him a catty look. “Do you have something substantive to add?”

“Only that my father has a yacht.”

Figured.

Veronica crossed her arms. “I’ve seen your father’s yacht, John Creed. It’s not enough boat for all of us.”

“Are you insulting the size of my father’s boat?”

“Only in reference to Sneak. Other ideas?” Veronica scanned the room, and her gaze stopped on me. “Parker?” she asked, with a challenging bob of her shoulders.

“Um, I really haven’t been in Chicago very long.” And more important, you don’t want any part of the things I’ve seen.

“Great. You’re all clearly going to be a huge asset to getting this thing off the—”

“Field Museum.”

Veronica stopped midinsult, then tilted her head at Jason. “What do you mean, Field Museum?”

“The Chicago Field Museum.” He leaned forward and linked his hands on the table. “I went to a bar mitzvah there once. You can rent out the main hall. I’m sure it’s not cheap”—he shrugged—“but we can party with Sue. That might be sweet, especially for Halloween.”

I wasn’t sure if I was supposed to be jealous or not. “Who’s Sue?”

“Sue,” Jason said, “is Chicago’s favorite Tyrannosaurus rex.” He mimicked claws and bared his teeth. “Very scary.”

“I’m not afraid of dinosaurs,” I assured him. “Trust me, I’ve seen worse.” Personally, I thought that was true, but I crossed my fingers just in case I was jinxing myself.

“Grizzly bears?” Jason asked.

“What about grizzly bears?”

“Have you seen worse things than, let’s say, grizzly bears?”

I smiled slyly. “Yeppers.”

“What about wolves?”

“Those aren’t even a little scary.”

“Hmm,” he said, smiling slyly back. “Good to know.”

Veronica tapped her fingers on the tabletop. “Excuse me? Can we ixnay the bizarre wild kingdom flirting—assuming that’s what this is—and get back on topic?”

“Seriously,” M.K. said, putting a hand to her stomach. “It’s making me nauseous.”

I bit back a smile. Sure, Jason and I weren’t exactly being subtle, but this time I’d been the one to create drama for the brat pack, instead of the other way around. That made a nice change.

“I like the Field Museum idea,” Veronica said. “I have to check with the boosters about the price, but it shouldn’t be a problem. One or two of them might even be on the board of directors.”

The “boosters,” I assumed, were the St. Sophia’s alumni who’d be donating a pretty penny so the juniors and seniors could have a luxe fall formal.

“Make the call,” John said. “And let us know.”

“Rest assured that I will,” Veronica said, then glanced at the clock on the wall behind her. “That didn’t take nearly as long as it should have. Anything else we should discuss right now, unless any of you are dorky enough to want to go back to history class?”

I guess I wasn’t supposed to be flattered that M.K. turned and looked at me.

“Drinks. Food. Transportation. Dress code,” Amie recited.

Veronica rattled off responses: “Drinks and food will depend on the location. The Field Museum probably has some kind of contract with a caterer. Limos for the transpo, and the dress code will be formal.”

“Looks like you have things well in hand,” John said.

“I always do. If there aren’t any more questions, let’s break into subcommittees and get into the details.”

We all just looked at each other. Even M.K. looked confused. “V, you haven’t assigned any subcommittees.”

“They’re DIY subcommittees,” she said. “And if you don’t DIY, we have to go back to class.”

She stood there for a few seconds to let the implication sink in.

“Subcommittees it is,” John said, pushing back his chair and standing up. “My subcommittee’s meeting over here.”

“And what’s your subcommittee?” Amie asked, pen in hand.

“That would be the subcommittee on rocking. Rocking hard.”

I bit back a snort.

The girls divvied up their committees—decorations, food, etc.—and then everyone began milling around. I walked over to the Montclare side of the table. After all, how often did we get a daytime visit from the boys in blue?

John Creed smiled in his way: a lazy half smile. “Hello, Sagamore.”

“Hello, Chicago.”

“You and Jason became fast friends.” He slid a glance to Jason, who was talking to one of the other girls. Since I’d been in Adept-denial at the time, I’d pretended not to know Jason the day I met John Creed. (I know, I know. I’d apologized later.)

“We’ve gotten to know each other,” I said vaguely. “I’m surprised you’re into party planning.”

“I’m into skipping class and spending time with private school girls.”

Mm-hmm. “Well, good luck with that.”

“Are you two going to Sneak together?”